(Ask) A Sith in Hutt's Clothing [Central Hub]

[Alcmaeon]

Aderack Wraige strode through the bustle surrounding the Hub with a mild sense of trepidation. You see, Wraige was not necessarily up to any good here, not that any good ever went on in this place. The mercenary stopped by a street vendor that was hawking refreshments, his eyes flicking over a security patrol that was shaking down some passerby. He moved on without buying anything, skirting around the stall and back into the foot traffic. This 'Glorious Jewel' he'd come to smelled, even through the filters of his mask, and he felt the need to bathe within minutes of setting foot on it. He wasn't picky, not by a long shot, but something about this star sytem just made him feel slimy. He'd come here once before, in a previous life, but that was different, a time long past. He wasn't that Coway when he wore this armor, Ikhail died when the mask sealed over his face. Now he was Wraige, and Wraige wanted money.

It was a simple mindset for the acolyte to adopt. If he made pains to think like that, it would lessen the chance of him slipping up when he was in Hutt space, and vice versa Imperial. He shrugged the rough tan cloak around his shoulders, exposing the blaster that hung under his arm. In his experience, the guards were less concerned with carried weaponry than they were with concealed, and making it obvious he was armed made sure he fit in with the rest of the people here. The blaster was an older model, the kind that had been used by Coruscant security before the Sith came along, and had been modified extensively. Some alterations seemed like field jury rigs that had become permanent, others more professional, but regardless it wasn't going to win any beauty contests. Other than that there was little about the mercenary that jumped out. His armor was obviously custom built, but seemed more a formality than protection judging by the materials involved, and other than the impression that he was humanoid, he was just another armor covered bounty hunter skulking around a cartel world.

He knew that entering the Hub wouldn't be a problem if he just wandered in like he had a reason to, and he wasn't up to anything destructive. There shouldn't have been an issue for now, the problems might come later. With a brief nod to one of the guards, he sauntered through the door, and into the Hub lobby. There were guns and guards everywhere, and Ikhail was almost tempted to fire a blast in the air and see how many people hauled leather and accidentally shot the person next to them out of nerves. There was a strong feeling of fear and anger in the force around him, a sense that the dark side was strong here, but untapped. He took a deep breath, relaxing with that realization, and made his way to the Kajidic desks. He waited around with the other hopeful grunts, ignoring their posturing and mean mugging when it drifted his way. He was likely the most dangerous person in this line up, and one wrong move from any of them would find a Ripper round through their throat. He'd ran with slavers and pirates since he was ten, these louts were nothing to him. Finally it was his turn, and he leaned in to talk to the recruiter casually, the voice modulator in his mask making his voice hum and deepen slightly.

"I find myself in need of a lot of credits in a hurry and don't have many compulsions about how they're earned. Anybody looking for a hired gun?"

 

[The Kyzer]

"Well what do you suppose I do about it, Cletus?"

"Send some of your best over here and get me out!" a rotund man demanded, his body a sheen of brilliant yet slightly transparent blue.

The woman he spoke to huffed and clicked the large Terminate Connection button on her datapad. She was tall, but not unnaturally so. Her aesthetic appeal was great enough for her to get her way with just about any male, and some females, but it wasn't her beauty that had gotten her the position she held today. Mjolla Varneslan was a maverick-savant of the criminal world, and all who had crossed her path had experienced that in some way. Of course, as with any other crime lord, Mjolla's power was built on a foundation of skulls and bones.

"Gina, send a team of guys to save that nerf-herder and bring him back here," the Champion ordered as she turned toward her rather striking assistant.

"I guess that means we've lost our source on Corellia," the human replica droid answered, her voice as calm as ever.

Mjolla merely nodded and grunted in agreement before mulling over he current situation. Cletus Ornava, code-name Sparrow, had been a contact of hers for many years. He was a mid-ranking Imperial who she'd bribed once eleven years ago and had been in her pocket ever since. Now, though, the fool had drunkenly blabbed this information and now a group of thugs were trying to hunt him down. To be honest, the female killer was a bit relieved that it wasn't the Imperium, but that didn't mean she wasn't bothered by it at all. Hopefully Cletus knew who was chasing him and, if her team could save him in time, he might be able to tell her who it was that was gunning for her agent.

There's a disturbance.

What? Where?

Mjolla felt a slight moment of worry. The last time the "Other One" had informed her of such things was when the Imperium had attacked the Cartel.

Downstairs. Someone is masquerading as a thug.

Do you know who?

No, but they're not here to cause problems.

Mjolla pondered over the Other One's words. This day might just be salvageable after all.

---

Five minutes later, the Cartel Champio entered the lobby, looking for the disturbance. She had to admit that her own skills with the strange power some referred to as the Force weren't exactly trained, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. Gina stood next to her employer, reading over a datapad and rambling off Mjolla's schedule which the replica knew was going to be ignored.

 

[Alcmaeon]

Wraige listened with barely concealed irritation as the clerk babbled information and bombarded him with questions that he felt were likely irrelevant. What did it matter if he'd ever been diagnosed with Lygadian Lung Warts? He was here, as far as she was concerned, to put blaster rounds in people on behalf of the Cartel. If he failed, they would find someone else, and he would either prove himself or he wouldn't. The dark side roiled within him briefly until he remembered himself and took a breath.

"Look, I've been doing this for years. Just stick me somewhere so I can shoot someone and get paid for it."

He was about to add something rather unpleasant, when his hackles prickled. The Coway could feel someone, someone strong in the force, but... Unrefined. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for any sign of other Acolytes. Or Jedi. Had the Order cottoned on to him? He wasn't exactly here with the blessing of the entire Imperial army. Or were the Jedi infiltrating the cartel? His right hand twitched, the shoto concealed in his armor itching to burst to life as he reached out with his senses to see if he could isolate the source. He had a significant amount of training in harnessing his abilities, but he was still rather blunt when it came to using his power. Basically, it was like watching a nervous teen fumble at the brazier of his first date. He turned back to the clerk, a low hiss reverberating through his mask.

"Years! I've slaved, pirated, raided, murdered, beaten, and pillaged my way through half the galaxy now. I don't need some desk jockey telling me what I already know. I need a drink, figure it out before I come back."

Time to exfiltrate this joint. If the force had followed him here he needed to regroup and prepare himself for any possible confrontation. He turned, and headed in the direction of a cantina he'd seen near the entrance. He scanned the lobby as he went, communicating with his tactical computer as he did, the HUD in his helmet profiling threats and escape routes. As he moved, the Coway's eyes skipped over a rather attractive pair of women, pausing for a moment before moving on.

Well, he was surrounded. This would be a bad place for a fight to break out, and he remembered his earlier impulse to fire an errant shot and see the reaction with some rueful trepidation.

 

[The Kyzer]

He's here.

Where?

The lack of a response was answer enough for Mjolla. The Other One didn't know who it was. Well that would make things difficult. Then there was only one thing to do. Wait and observe. Typical criminal scum waiting in the ever-present line to join up with the Cartel. There was one in a strange personal armor, but everyone seemed very unremarkable.

There. That one.

The Champion's eyes focused as she looked at the figure in the armor. She could feel the tension in the room. The spy was about to panic. That could go badly. Well, there was only one way out that didn't end with a lot of dead bodies.

"You. There," Mjolla called out, pointing at the armored thug, "You're hired. Come with me."

Now, normally that might be construed as a way to get the spy alone so she could kill him. However, it would be apparent to the armored individual that it would be much more difficult on the woman to trap him out in public, which was where she was leading him.

"Stay here," the woman said to her assistant before exiting the building with, hopefully, her new hire in tow.

"Why are you trying to infiltrate the Cartel?" she asked bluntly, not seeing any worth in continuing the game.

 

[Alcmaeon]

He sensed it, raw and untainted, but present regardless. The Force. It couldn't be the Jedi, it didn't reek of self righteousness, and they wouldn't send someone here that couldn't conceal themselves. This other one was strong, but with neither side, Light or Dark. It was confusing to Ikhail, strange. He'd never sensed anybody who had been touched by neither side. He gritted his teeth, the doors in sight. He was almost out, then he could hop a speeder back to the shuttle he'd come her on and regroup, or so he thought. A voice and a gesture told him all he needed to know about his cover, and he was on the verge of triggering his lightsaber release and preparing to die in a hail of blaster fire, when the follow up words echoed through the receivers on his helmet. He blinked, and to his credit recovered quickly. The Coway knew something was off here, but he wasn't letting on yet that he knew.

"Finally."

If she was dragging him off to a secluded place to kill him she'd be in for a surprise, he was no slouch at combat, but it seemed they were going out in broad daylight. He narrowed his eyes further, ordering his tac-comp to run a facial scan through his visor and try facial comparison, as he closed the distance between the two. As they emerged into the 'fresh' air that surrounded the Hub, she spoke. He hissed low under his breath, cursing his bad luck. This was the force user, not an exit. He stifled his impulse to strike and escape, reminding himself if she'd wanted him dead she could have had him killed a thousand ways already. She was blunt, he appreciated that. So many Sith were subtle and indirect, which bothered him greatly. He focused on the persona he'd abandoned to come here, leaving the Mercenary behind for the Sith, at least as much as he could when acknowledging both existed.

"I want the credits and resources of the Cartel so I can use them against my enemies."

If the Hutts intended to mess with the Imperium, it was his job to figure it out and prevent it. If he got paid in the process even better. That he was here of his own volition, well he'd keep that gem to himself. He was already in danger, and telling her that he didn't have the full might of the Imperium behind him was tantamount to telling her to shoot him and leave him in a dumpster. He decided the lightsaber was a bad idea, instead favoring the Ripper in his lower back. It was less powerful a weapon, but less flashy. His eyes flicked to each alleyway and secluded archway they neared, wondering which one she would drag him into to attempt to execute him.

"Why didn't you just have me shot?"

 

[The Kyzer]

"Because I, unlike many others you may have worked for, have imagination."

The tall woman continued walking with a casual grace. They reached a small outdoor cafe, which Mjolla pointed to, and she sat down at an open table.

"To simply kill you is uninspired and lacking in creativity. Makes things...boring."

A waitress approached for a moment, then noted who it was. As such, the Twi'lek female simply approached Mjolla's guest and asked what he would like to have. After taking the order, she left silently.

"Do you know who I am? Eh, I doubt it. That's the trouble these days with maintaining a low-profile. People throw out infamous names like Yuri Sharp, Jack Tamblyn, and Vica Veszk and people recognize them. People throw out my name and it's met with confusion. Even my official and unofficial dossiers have a scant bit of information about me."

The female killer laughed for a moment at her own joke.

"You can call me M, and I'm your new employer, or at least your employer inside of the Cartel. I can imagine that you work for the Imperium or maybe you're one of ACE's minions. Either way, you're useful to me."

"Now, who are these enemies you wish to vanquish?"